


so tired but i just can't sleep

by merwinist



Category: Iron Man (Movies), Marvel Cinematic Universe, Spider-Man (Tom Holland Movies), Spider-Man - All Media Types, The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Emotional Hurt/Comfort, FRIDAY is a good bot, Hurt Tony Stark, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Nightmares, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Protective Peter Parker, Tony Stark Feels, Tony Stark Has Issues, Tony Stark Has Nightmares, Tony Stark Has Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder, Tony Stark Needs Sleep, Tony Stark Needs a Hug, tony stark's kids want the best for him
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-29
Updated: 2019-10-29
Packaged: 2021-01-06 08:03:05
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,843
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21223277
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/merwinist/pseuds/merwinist
Summary: Peter notices that Tony has been off for a while, and conscripts FRIDAY to help him do something about it.





	so tired but i just can't sleep

**Author's Note:**

> I listened to [Bad Dreams by Faouzia](https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=Kq0XPWVe3AE) while writing this tumblr prompt!

Peter’s not stupid, and he’s not naive. He knows something is wrong with Tony, has known it for a while, but recently things have gotten worse. Every time he visits the tower it seems like Tony’s under-eye bags have carved another layer into his face, and Peter’s had to start asking FRIDAY to announce him because Tony startles at his own shadow. This is on top of how the intimacy in their relationship has trickled to a stop; now, he’s not just talking about sex. Peter is a big fan of cuddling, and Tony used to, if not enthusiastically participate, humor him. These days, though, Peter’s lucky if he can get a hug. They don’t watch movies together anymore. They don’t sleep wrapped up in each other after long days of patrolling or inventing.   
  
In fact, Peter can’t really remember the last time he saw Tony anywhere except the workshop.  
  
If he were still an insecure teenager, he’d wonder what he’d done wrong, but as it stands he’s twenty-six and he knows there’s more going on than meets the eye. Tony’s always had an erratic sleep schedule, for sure, but he used to let Peter coax him to bed at least one night in three during his worst periods; even if he didn’t sleep, Peter’s presence had been a comfort, he knows.  
  
Which is why he’s trying not to be hurt by being iced out, but really, enough is enough.   
  
“FRIDAY, when was the last time Tony slept for more than an hour?” he finally caves and asks. He tries not to use the AI to keep tabs on Tony because he knows how _he_ feels about it, but this is quickly reaching emergency territory. He’s justified.  
  
“I’m sorry, Peter, I am not authorized to give you that information.” And to her credit, she does sound regretful. Peter’s baffled; he knows Tony doesn’t sleep well, knows he has nightmares, so why would Tony suddenly not want him to know?  
  
_What the fuck?_ he mouths to himself, a hand coming up to rub over his mouth thoughtfully. “What _can_ you tell me, Fri?” Tony’s kids love him and are very protective of him, even when he makes that difficult. Peter knows they’re not shy about circumnavigating direct orders if they think Tony is being stubborn past what’s rational.  
  
She hums for a moment, processing what she can say without disobeying a directive. “Boss has spent approximately ninety percent of the last month in the workshop, with the other ten percent being a composite of meetings ordered by Ms. Potts and bathroom breaks. He has lost fifteen pounds in that time and stopped accepting shakes from DUM-E two weeks and three days ago, at which point his caffeine consumption increased by over fifty percent.”  
  
Well, fuck. That’s past not good and well into intervention territory. However, Peter knows he can’t just barge in and try to force Tony to talk to him; it would be like salting a snail. He can’t just do nothing, though. He misses his lover, and underneath that he really is a bit hurt that Tony’s shutting him out.   
  
“Recommended course of action?” he asks. FRIDAY always has at least one good idea when Peter himself is stumped.  
  
“Perhaps, a private dinner and movie in the penthouse? I’m certain that if you tell Boss you’re feeling a bit neglected he’ll be eager to make it up to you. Past experiences suggests that a large enough meal will cause him to fall asleep, something I think you’ll find most enlightening to witness.” That seems perilously close to disobeying Tony, and Peter would hate to be the reason FRIDAY gets reprogrammed, so he doesn’t press the issue.  
  
“Would you order from Bernardin? You know what we like -- same with the movie. I’m not terribly picky since I doubt we’ll end up actually watching it. I’m going to head down to the workshop to try and pry him out.”   
  
~~  
  
Dinner goes about as well as Peter could hope. Tony is quiet, but he hadn’t fought the idea of an at-home date after seeing Peter’s puppy eyes so it’s a win as far as he’s concerned. Sharp eyes take in Tony’s gaunt cheeks and shaking hands, all of which is adding up to a picture Peter doesn’t like. Still, he doesn’t say anything. It’s probably not healthy and is definitely underhanded, but Tony doesn’t admit to having problems unless absolutely backed into a corner, and, well, Peter’s gotten good at laying concern-fueled traps over the years.   
  
They don’t have set cuddling positions, so tonight Peter tucks himself into the corner of the couch and pulls Tony into the v of his legs, fluffing a blanket over them as the opening credits start. Tony is stiff, practically vibrating; Peter wonders how many cups he’s had today, and if the hearty meal will be enough to counteract the caffeine rush.  
  
Despite several fits and starts where Tony jerks awake, insulin overload wins the day, causing Tony’s head to loll back into Peter’s chest before the movie is even halfway over. It makes Peter smile, even if there’s a tinge of sadness to it. He loves that Tony feels comfortable enough with him to fall asleep, loves that Tony’s brain thinks he’s safe no matter why Tony himself has been avoiding it.  
  
Tony’s barely been asleep long enough to fully relax before he’s tensing back up, legs twitching and head tossing from side to side with growing violence. He whimpers, breaking Peter’s heart; his hands curl into fists that catch the fabric of Peter’s sweats. All in all, it seems a standard nightmare -- and then Tony starts crying. It starts with small mewls, culminating in sobs that shake both their bodies that leads to Peter running his fingers through Tony’s hair and murmuring soft nonsense in his ear.   
  
It doesn’t seem to have any effect; Tony’s thrashing gets worse and worse until he finally wrenches awake with a heartbreaking scream. **_“PETER, NO!”_**  
  
And, well. It’s not the first time in their relationship that one of them has had nightmares involving the other, so Peter’s confusion about Tony’s distance only grows, even as he tries to calm Tony down with a hand between shuddering shoulder blades. “It’s okay, babe. I’m here, we’re safe, we’re in the tower. We just had dinner and this movie is super boring, I have no idea what’s even going on.” He keeps up a stream of meaningless chatter until Tony’s gasps taper off into hiccups. Then he deems it safe to pull Tony back into an embrace, only to be shocked when Tony throws himself forward and off the couch.  
  
“I can’t -- I need -- Bathroom,” the man stutters through whooping breaths before darting off. Peter follows him, of course, and witnesses Tony fall to his knees in front of the toilet, losing the entirety of the dinner they’ve just barely finished. Sympathy wells up in Peter as he quietly fusses, wetting a washcloth for the back of Tony’s neck and filling a glass with room temperature tap water.  
  
“Sweetheart, whatever’s going on is killing you,” he says softly. “Let me help you.”  
  
It seems like a bad choice of words, causing Tony to flinch dramatically before hanging his head over the toilet again. “It’s not me I’m killing,” he mutters darkly, just barely loud enough for Peter to hear. Several puzzle pieces click into place, but he still wants to hear the whole story from Tony himself, so he settles onto the tile floor, back to the cupboard under the sink.  
  
“_Talk_ to me, babe. Please. I’ve barely seen you in months; I miss being in your arms.” He’s not trying to guilt Tony, not really. It’s all true, and he tries to deliver it as softly as he can, accompanied by a reassuring hand on his lover’s trembling bicep. He can practically see the resignation settle between Tony’s shoulders.  
  
“We went up against Electro a few months ago.” He nods but doesn’t say anything. “I had a shot lined up, had actually set it off, and you went swinging between us. It was a miracle I didn’t hit you.” Peter makes a soft noise of comprehension as Tony lets out a rough, dry sob. “I called the suit to bed once with Pepper, did you know that? Repulsors charged and all. So, now I -- Now I have nightmares of rolling over in bed and blasting a hole in your head. Or your heart. Or we’re in battle and I take aim and a villain uses you as a shield. Or --”  
  
Peter gets the picture, and he cuts Tony off by hauling him into his lap, uncomfortable as it might be. Tony curls into a small ball, tucking his head into Peter’s neck and whispering, “I can’t -- If I killed you I’d probably turn a repulsor on myself next. And I didn’t want you to know I was capable of that, so I just... Stopped sleeping, really.”  
  
Peter hums for a moment or two, tucking Tony’s head under his chin. “I trust you with my life and beyond. I’ve never been afraid of the suit, or you, not least because I _know_ you must have some sort of protocol for FRIDAY to override you if you call it during a nightmare.” He presses a soft kiss on unwashed, disheveled hair. “There’s also the simple fact of the matter that I’m stronger than Iron Man, and could easily redirect any shots you aimed at me.” A soft sigh escapes from deep in his chest. “There’s always a risk of friendly fire, especially when a team has a mix of range and close-up fighters. And yeah, I might not walk off a blast as quickly as the Hulk would, but I _am_ fairly indestructible. I’ve been hit by a train, babe, or did you forget?” A smile creeps onto his face and into his voice at that last, and he squeezes Tony even tighter for a moment.  
  
“I know it won’t stop the nightmares, I’m not conceited enough to think a few words can do that, but I need you to know that pushing me away and avoiding me hurts far more than accidentally taking a hit from you would.”  
  
Tony hides his face in Peter’s chest, trying to make himself smaller even as tension drains from his limbs. “Take me to bed? Please?”  
  
They both laugh when Peter tells him he has to brush his teeth first, and it’s a nice moment of equilibrium. Neither of them are foolish enough to think that all of the problems of Tony’s trauma are so easily solved, but at least for the night things are okay. And each time Tony wakes up screaming, Peter is there to hold him and ease him back to sleep.  
  
It’s not a fix to the problem, but then Peter has never wanted to fix Tony; all he’s ever wanted was to be someone the man could lean on in a world that seemed more content to take from Tony Stark than give.


End file.
